The journey to Yggdrasil, the World Tree, is full of adventure and excitement, this is mostly due to the fact that the path between Albion and the tree are filled with some of the least pleasant of the world's inhabitants. And because Master Jonathan Clairefoy was along to lead the expedition.

Sailing to the north of Albion, Philip Silva, Lord Owain Herbert and Master Jonathan Clairefoy prepare themselves for the tough expedition. Clairefoy is careful to note the need for warm layers, plenty of food and copious quantities of paper, quills and ink so that appropriate notes might be recorded. After all, recreating the wonders of the North without detailed notes is hardly the proper way to go about things. A proper conjurer always does his research properly and unless he can be sure that he is providing the most adequate service he or, indeed she, can. He's always thought that there needs to be some sort of Code of Honour for conjurers, something to keep them on the straight and narrow. He's met a fair few unpleasant individuals though they are of course now, perhaps thankfully, long gone thanks to that conjurer-eating monster.

Eventually Clairefoy is persuaded to cast lodestone and point the way towards Yggdrasil and they all happily navigate to Norway. The lodestone spell brings with itself much-needed rest for our brave adventurers as it seems that the concentration required to maintain the spell and read the directions keeps Master Clairefoy mostly quiet. On the way to Norway, the boat is attacked by a giant squid and the expedition is very happy to have Owain Herbert on board. Decked about with anti-squid charms and screaming in what some of the crew believe to be battle-rage and others believe to be abject terror, seizes a harpoon and with unearthly strength kills the squid. It bleeds bright blue. (Both PCs should feel free to have bits of giant squid for use as Tokens or magical artefacts. You can be sure that Clairefoy has secured his fair share. Indeed, he has also theorised which of the spells he is developing might usefully take advantage of giant squid and in the end leans heavily towards some form of multi-tasking aid, though of course much fun can be had with spells giving you extra limbs or producing a pot of endless ink.)

Finally a land-mass, possibly north of Norway is reached and the ship must be abandoned as the adventure continues on the snow-covered plain. Some way inland the mist surrounding the adventurers clear and almost suddenly and most unexpectedly the World Tree, Yggdrasil, the final refuge of mankind, looms and towers over all. It is a most impressive and ancient tree, reaching high into the heavens and far to either side, bearing leaves of green, purple and red shades and composed of a remarkably strong, yet soft bark. Among its branches and down it mighty trunk flits a movement, a squirrel, with a great red bushy tail, picking its way with such nimble movements as have never been witnessed. Up far, where the branches must surely touch Skinfaxi pulling Sol across the sky a marvellous bird, whether eagle or hawk with enormous wings, fanning the winds from all sides. All stand dumbfounded for some time, maybe minutes, maybe hours, but eventually Silva directs a camp to be set up and his specialist equipment to be prepared.

Once his magics are complete, at which point his hair has a rather more fur-like quality than usual, his ears appear to have grown and his feet are causing severe problems with his shoes due to being half claws, he declares himself prepared and marches to one of the larger branches before tying the rope to his foot, throwing it over the branch and requiring Lord Herbert to gently pull him up. Before long he is hanging by his foot from the World Tree. All note however that he appears quite comfortable, barring his nervous glances at Jonathan Clairefoy.

Clairefoy himself declares this to be a grand occasion and begins to pace about eulogising on the merits of such wonderful adventures and the benefits that they might bring to all. He is interrupted before long by a raven, it seems the only living thing bar the adventurers and the tree's inhabitants, which arrives bearing a spear with a message wrapped around its gnarled shaft. Clairefoy picks up the spear and message, spends a little time reading it, looks up frowning and shrugging his shoulders apologetically sticks the spear into Silva's side.

As swords are drawn, Clairefoy simply hands the note to Lord Owain who declares that the missive from Odin requires the spear to have struck the man and also commands the raven to favour Silva as Odin is favoured. Before he finishes reading the raven is already upon the hanging man - its beak darting once into Silva's face and taking his eye and flying high and far away.

Of course, it isn't all that bad, Clairefoy suggests, after all, the more he goes through, the more that a reward, and one supposes that the great Captain Philip Silva is doing this for some sort of reward rather than for the amusement of humble Master Clairefoy, will be significantly greater. Where such as Odin are concerned it is usually best to be at the very least careful. He might not be Christian, but in Clairefoy's excellent opinion, neither are the monsters eating the conjurers and who knows who his brothers-in-craft might have carelessly offended in their dealings. It wouldn't do to upset things when they are going well, unless you can be sure of them continuing to go well even if you do try to upset them because of some special knowledge you know that prevents the upset rather occuring…

… Four days later, to escape the continued ramblings of Master Clairefoy, Lord Owain Herbert takes a small expedition around the tree, commanding Master Clairefoy to keep a watch over Master Silva. That's when the screaming starts, though of course Silva is barely able to scream loud enough to drown out Clairefoy's voice - it doesn't help that the conjurer is trying to comfort him.

Lord Owain meanwhile is able to collect some of the fallen bark and leaves from Yggdrasil - the leaves, even when fallen, remain their green or red colour no matter how long they are separated from the tree - experience suggests that both the leaves and wood are /highly/ magical. Returning on the seventh day of Silva's ordeal it seems that the screaming has subsided, though Master Clairefoy has taken to occasionally writing notes on parchment rather than talking. Silva occasionally croaks and mouths 'kill me' to Lord Owain who must shrug his shoulders and sigh.

It is with great relief that the ninth and last day arrives and Master Silva is at last cut down from the tree, alive and, considering all things, really quite well. It takes all of Lord Owain's strength to restrain the weakened Silva from going for Clairefoy's throat - he suggests that they may well need the conjurer to actually get them back.

On the way back you are found by the English speaking Valkyrie you remember from previous trips, who still refuses to give you her name. She pulls you up onto her wolf, reassuring the rest of your party that you will be returned to the ship.

Once more to the glade, and Odin. He looks at you appraisingly, and makes some rather pointed comments about Loki, shapeshifting and acid, but grudgingly admits that you have succeeded - however, if you don't bring the army back in good order, it's snake dripping acid on your face time. The general feeling you get is grudging respect coupled with intense dislike of your personality.

You are returned to the ship on the wolf, which is fortunate as walking is somewhat difficult.

Before long all can finally breath “Thank God it's Albion and I don't have to be near Master Clairefoy”.